


Melancholy Eyes

by audbooh



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Ben is Death, Emotions, F/M, Rey is a witch, Rituals, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 18:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21123143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audbooh/pseuds/audbooh
Summary: Death glanced around the attic, taking in the worn boxes and cluttered messes. His dark, sunken eyes finally focused on Rey, and she gasped, unused to seeing such sadness in one’s eyes.“My name is Rey,” she said, regaining her voice. “I have a question for you.”“In all of my years,” Death said, his voice deep and soothing, “I have never been summoned for a simple question. Kings and Emperors have asked me to eliminate enemies, lovers have begged me to revive their spouses, desperate folk have demanded to be spared. But I have never been asked a simple question.” He stepped forward, and Rey scrambled to stand, praying that she looked braver than she felt. “What is your question?” Rey took a deep breath, forcing herself to look into Death’s melancholy eyes."





	Melancholy Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).

Rey’s hands shook as she read unfamiliar words. Her knees ached, and she shivered from the wind blowing through the dilapidated attic. The bright light of the moon shone through the cracks in the wood, mixing with the flickering candlelight. Her voice cracked as she continued to read aloud, pronouncing the words with careful deliberation. The floor of the attic was painted with an intricate symbol, the still-wet paint oozing red liquid. Some of the paint stained Rey’s flimsy white nightgown.

She whispered the final words, then closed the book and placed it to the side. Rey dipped her fingers in the paint bucket next to her, drawing a red cross on her chest. She blew out the candle next to her, and the attic went dark.

The wind picked up, howling and screaming outside the attic window. Rey held her breath, her heart hammering. She held her dripping fingers to her chest, eyes wide as she tried to peer into the darkness. The clouds in front of the moon passed, and in the centre of the symbol was a figure cloaked in dark robes.

Rey froze, unable to take her eyes off of the figure. The moonbeams from the window almost seemed to focus on him, bathing him in the pale light. His dark hair framed his long face, accentuating his plush lips and aquiline nose. A scar bisected the right side of his face. In all of her deepest dreams and darkest nightmares, Rey never imagined that Death would look so beautiful.

Death glanced around the attic, taking in the worn boxes and cluttered messes. His dark, sunken eyes finally focused on Rey, and she gasped, unused to seeing such _sadness_ in one’s eyes. 

“My name is Rey,” she said, regaining her voice. “I have a question for you.”

“In all of my years,” Death said, his voice deep and soothing, “I have never been summoned for a simple question. Kings and Emperors have asked me to eliminate enemies, lovers have begged me to revive their spouses, desperate folk have demanded to be spared. But I have never been asked a simple question.” He stepped forward, and Rey scrambled to stand, praying that she looked braver than she felt. “What is your question?” Rey took a deep breath, forcing herself to look into Death’s melancholy eyes. 

“I want to know what happened to my parents,” Rey replied. Death simply cocked his head, once again stepping towards Rey. She stood her ground as he hovered his hand near her face. She watched as he closed his eyes, pursing his lips in concentration. A thought invaded her head; she wanted to trace that scar with her fingers, wanted to know if his hair was as soft as it looked.

“Your parents,” Death repeated, stepping back and once again meeting her gaze. _ Those eyes, _ Rey thought. _ Those eyes look as if they have lived too long. _“Do you not wish to know of your heroes? To know what comes after life? If there is a Heaven, after all?” Rey shook her head, her hands balled into fists to quell her fear.

“I need to know the truth,” she responded. Death’s lips quirked upwards slightly, amusement in his eyes. 

“Your parents are dead,” Death started, and Rey felt her heart shatter in her chest. Tears slipped down her face as she choked back a sob. She would not cry in front of Death.

“They sold you off to Unkar Plutt for drinking money. They’re buried in a pauper’s grave in the slums of London. They left you.” Death paused for a moment, his hand twitching at his side. “Would you like me to show you their graves?”

Rey met Death’s eyes, frozen. She nodded imperceptibly. He held out his hand, and she took it. It was cold as if he had dipped it into the lakes in the winter. In a blink of an eye, Rey was transported from the sheltered attic to the frigid streets of London. She let out a gasp, almost unable to believe it. Death pulled his hand away from her, his body jerking as he turned away from her. Rey looked to the skies, watching as the smoke from the factories puffed into the air. There was the corner where the orphan children played as the adults marched into work. There was the old tailor, who always took pity on Rey and sewed her clothes. There was the street where the most magnificent of carriages passed by her, pulled by regal horses. A chilling wind blew by her, and suddenly Rey was all too aware of her undressed state. She clutched at herself, using her arms to cover herself. Death swiftly pulled off his cloak and wrapped it around her. Rey felt a warm feeling spread through her, and she blushed. 

They were standing in a crowded graveyard, moss and vines creeping up from the ground. Rey passed this every day when she went on delivery jobs for Plutt. She couldn’t believe that her parents were this close. In front of her were two crumbling graves, unmarked. Rey fell to her knees, tracing the graves with her red-stained fingers. Now, she did not stifle her tears. She openly cried, wiping her eyes as she felt the icy stone. _ Her parents were here._ She felt a cold hand on her shoulder and she jumped, but it was only Death, his despondent eyes focussed only on her.

“Why do you cry for them? They abandoned you. Left you for dead. They _sold_ you. They didn’t love you.” Rey stared at Death with misty eyes, and he knelt down next to her. Their faces were inches apart; Rey could see every mole, every detail in his eyes. She could see the scar tissue, could trace the lines in his lips. The only sound between them was their breathing.

“They’re my parents,” Rey said. Confusion flickered in Death’s forlorn eyes. “I love them.”

A shadow spread over Death’s face, and he pulled away from Rey. “You shouldn’t,” he whispered, standing up. He began to walk away, casting one last glance at Rey.

“Wait!” She stood up, and he paused. She approached him, taking his icy hand between hers. Death went rigid, sorrowful eyes wide in shock. Rey couldn’t help but rub her thumbs along the grooves of his hands, feeling the soft skin. She looked up at him, pleasurable warmth spreading through her. 

"Haven't you ever known love?” she asked, and Death didn’t answer. Rey waited, and finally, Death shook his head. Without a second’s thought, Rey let go of Death’s hand and embraced him. He was solid and real, and she sighed as she leaned into him. Rey soon felt Death’s arms wrap around her. She pulled her head back, smiling at him. He smiled back, no longer seeming quite so _sad. _Rey’s eyes trailed down to his lips, and before she could convince herself otherwise, she rolled onto her tiptoes and lightly pressed her lips to his. They were cold and warm and soft and she revelled in those few seconds before she pulled away. Death breathed deeply, mouth slightly parted, then she closed her eyes as they kissed once more.


End file.
